Tainted Purple
by Krystal V
Summary: There is a man underneath the paint. And he is a man. He is not exempt from the cruel fate of reality. Nor is he exempt from himself. She was certain of that. She had no idea what she was getting herself into when she decided to turn around. R&R.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Oh, after the Dark Knight movie, I'm sure many authors couldn't resist writing something about the Joker. Myself, included. I didn't think I would actually put this up, but what the heck, I'm on a roll. I did a lot of homework on the Batman universe too! I'm kind of a perfectionist that way. This is movie-verse so plenty of stolen movie scenes galore! :) And I have no idea which genre to put this story under. I'm tempted to put Romance but there's hardly any unless you count one-sided subconscious love as Romance... I'm quite adamant that the Joker can't fall in love! Been reading Arkham Asylum: A Serious House On A Serious Earth, The Killing Joke and Black Orchid too much. I love the graphic novels by Dave McKean. Pretty. Alright, enough of my drivel. Let's get this story on!**

**Disclaimer: All characters and plots from the world of Batman belongs to its respective owners. The Original Character and the plot of this story, however, I have custody holds of! :D**

**--**

**Tainted Purple**

_Prologue_

The bank was silent, save for the shuffling of footsteps and papers. The occasional tapping of the keyboard punctuated the still building. A young woman dropped her pen onto the tiled floor, resulting in a loud clattering noise that was magnified a hundred times in the stillness. She tucked a lock of her long dark hair behind her ear and bent down to retrieve it.

_I believe that there is always a calm before the storm…_

A man stood by the side of the road, a heavy bag slung over his hunched shoulder and a clown mask in one hand. The afternoon sun beat down on his back. All around him, people went about their business, so typically unaware. He waited, waited for the screech of tires approaching. Waited for his moment to put on the mask and dance to a tune that only he sang.

_I believe that everyone is capable of doing things…_

The door to the bank slammed open. The people inside turned their heads sharply to inspect the alarming intrusion, only to be greeted with the sound of a gun being shot into the ceiling and a nightmare come true. The result ended in scattered documents and several screams.

"Alright everybody! Hands up! Get down!" the masked men yelled, brandishing their weapons around the terrified faces that obeyed their command.

The criminal clowns began grabbing people and handing out grenades, telling them to hold onto them as if their life depended on it. Which it did, anyway.

_Many things…_

One of the tellers tried to make his way towards the button underneath his table. It was a vain attempt; the whole area was secured by the robbers. Inevitably, he was noticed. And stopped. With a bullet through his head, naturally. Blood splattered the floor beneath him.

_Terrible things…_

Having secured the area, one of the men headed towards the back to get the cash. Suddenly, amongst the havoc and the constant reminders of staying on the ground, a loud bang sounded, almost like an explosion, followed by glass breaking. The clown who had just kicked the security guard over a table fell forwards to the floor. He landed on top of a woman, who gasped, more in disgust than anything. She jerked her hand up and jabbed her pen into the man's chest. That, however, was useless since the man was already dead anyway. She pushed him off her and scrambled away from the man with the gun who began shooting at another clown that was dashing away from him.

"You idiots! You have any idea who you're stealing from? You're dead!" he was yelling.

The clown managed to duck behind a desk. The brunette continued crawling along her belly very slowly towards a safer area. Maybe, she thought, she could find somewhere to hide. But oh, oops, she stopped. She was now just behind the criminals. Bad move, she told herself and began inching away again.

"He's out, right?" she heard one of them whisper.

The other guy must have nodded because he stood up and tried to shoot at the bank-manager-slash-mob-member. Lucky for the clown, he managed to duck out of the way as the mob guy fired a shot at him. The mob guy was, apparently, very bad at shots. Another clown jumped up and shot him in the knee, effectively putting him out of action and dropping his gun.

"Where did you learn to count?" the other clown yelled angrily as he got up.

He then headed towards the back of the bank and there was a loud shot. After that, the remaining two clowns hauled out about six bags loaded with money into the main area of the bank.

"That's a lotta money," one of them said. "If this Joker guy's so smart, he'd had have us bring a bigger car."

He began loading his gun. The other clown paused and turned around slowly.

"I'm bettin' the Joker told you to kill me as soon as we loaded the cash," he said, nodding his head at him while aiming his gun.

The other clown held up his hand to look at his watch and let out a loud sigh.

_The question is…_

"No, no, no, no, no," he said, his voice a silky, dangerous tone. "I kill the bus driver."

"Bus driver?" the first clown asked, incredulously. "What bus driver?"

As if on cue, a bus suddenly crashed into the side of the building and rammed into him. The second clown backed up from the bus, throwing a side-glance at the now unconscious, more like dead clown. Another clown-masked robber jumped out of the big yellow bus.

"School's out! Time to go!" he laughed, looking down at the dead clown. "He's not getting up, is he?"

The other clown began throwing the bags of money at him to load into the bus.

"That's a lotta money," he said. "What happened to the rest of the guys?"

As soon as the question left his mouth, he was shot dead in the chest. The last, remaining clown looked around for the last bag, which happened to be next to the brunette, who was getting really sick of lying on the filthy floor. He stopped in front of her and she looked up. He bent down, his dark eyes staring at her intently. The funny thing is… it wasn't because of her beauty that struck him. She wasn't that much of a looker anyway, positively average. And it wasn't because she held no fear in her eyes as she stared back. No, the first thing he noticed about her were her nails. They were long and painted purple. A deep, amethyst purple that looked positively wicked when compared to her pale skin.

"Think you're smart, huh?" the mobster guy exclaimed. "Those hired guys you used? They'll do the same to you. They're all cruel and don't believe in things… honour, respect! Look at you! What do you believe in?"

The clown turned to him and slowly stood up. He began walking towards him, grabbing something from his coat.

"What do you believe in?!" the mobster yelled just as the clown shoved some kind of grenade into his mouth.

"I believe… that whatever doesn't kill you, simply makes you… _stranger_," he said, taking off his mask to reveal his face.

Or, what could be considered his face. It was painted in white, his eyes were smeared black so they looked like two gaping holes. His lips were painted red as well, and the red paint extended on both sides to resemble a permanent grin, covering the cruel disfiguring scars on either side of his lips. The mobster looked up at him in terror. It was probably then that he realized exactly who was messing with him and his mob's bank.

"Huh," the scarred man looked to the side at the woman who was staring at him with wide eyes.

Again, they weren't eyes drowned in fear. No, they reflected curiosity. He grinned, a truly compellingly disturbing image of the highest degree.

"Come here," he walked towards her and pulled her up, shoving a gun in her hands.

She blinked at him, confused.

"Kill him," he pointed.

The mobster paled.

"Go on, kill him," he said, somehow managing to acquire a knife out of thin air. "Or I'll carve your pretty doll face."

She raised an eyebrow. Again, there was no fear. He wondered why that was. Why, this seemingly ordinary girl did not feel frightened at all. Unlike the pathetic dog at their feet. He pressed the knife to her neck, holding her tightly. She wasn't even shaking…

"Go on," he coaxed, making her hands grip the gun and holding them up to point at the man's head. "Shoot him. Kill him, like the dog he is, whimpering for his life."

She flexed her fingers indecisively. Her eyes held no revulsion, no terror, but pure, unabashed indifference. Again, he noticed her long purple fingernails. He liked her fingernails, he thought. The mobster, apparently, seemed to recognize the woman in front of him. He began making noises and backed away. The Joker cocked his head to the side, hearing the faint noise of a siren.

"Time to go, pick up that bag for me, darling," he pushed the woman over to the bag. "And get in the bus."

She grunted unhappily and hurried to pick up the bag anyway. He walked towards the bus, a long string trailing after him. Said string happened to be attached to the grenade in the mobster's mouth. His eyes widened some more. The woman dumped the bag in the bus and jumped in after the Joker. The doors closed and the bus drove off. Through the glass, she could see the pin pop out. Then, in what felt like the worst anticlimax ever, yellow smoke hissed out. But she chuckled at the look of the man's face.

_But the question is; Do you want to do it?_


	2. Escape

**A/N: It's alive! It's alive! It's- No! It's a monster! Stop it! Stop it!**

**Things starts to pick up from here ;)**

**Tainted Purple**

_Chapter 1_

_She was dreaming. She knew she had to be. The house was dark, but there was noise coming from the direction of the living room. Happy noise, filled with laughter. It was most definitely a dream. She took a step forward. Towards the sound, the noises. She saw them from the light of the television. She saw them, turn towards her. She saw, with paralyzing fear, their rotting skin, their eyeless sockets, their gaping mouths drowned in foam and blood. She saw, behind them, the grinning face of her nightmare. He taunted her, smiling that faceless smile._

_Then she gasped, waking up. She flexed her hands, gasping, panting, fighting the urge to destroy something. She managed to calm herself before going back to sleep. She had another day tomorrow…_

She almost fell forwards when the bus screeched to a stop outside an abandoned warehouse. She couldn't help but give a small smirk. The bus door opened and he got out from the bus, dragging the bags of money after him. He hadn't told her what to do so she just helped in dumping the bags into the warehouse after him. After they were done, he dumped kerosene onto the bus and lit it to make a bonfire. _Then_ he turned to her. He looked at her, studied her, observed her, and licked his lips.

"Go on, run along," he cocked his head to the street. "Before I change my mind."

He then walked past her, into the warehouse. She stood there, blinking stupidly, and then mentally slapped herself. She spun around and ran after him_. No, why was she running __**after**__ him, she should be running __**away**__. Hello!_ She entered the warehouse and looked around at all the boxes and steel pipes piled around haphazardly. He was right in front of her, taking off his coat and hanging it on a steel pipe. He was changing. She could see his usual purple suit hanging on the other side. She took a step forward and he turned around. She froze.

"Excuse me," he said in a patronizing voice. "It's rude to watch people change."

She opened her mouth to reply but decided not to and merely turned around to face away. She waited as patiently as she could, hearing the soft rustling of fabric being taken off and put on. She wanted to peek, but she was afraid he might throw a knife into her eye or some such. Then there was silence behind her, no more rustling. She slowly moved her head to the side to look but something suddenly caught her hair and pulled her head back. She let out a cry, then felt his warm breath on her neck. She wanted to faint, maybe he'll spare her the pain.

"Ohh," he said in her ear. "I thought I told you to hit the road before I changed my mind. You got a death wish, sugar pie?"

She laughed nervously. "You could say that."

She turned her head to look at his face, which was much too close to hers for her comfort. She stared openly at him then, taking in every single detail of his paint-covered face. There was a prolonged moment of silence. Then a giggle cracked the air. She couldn't help it. She wanted to stab herself. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"What's so funny?" he demanded, sounding like he'd been mortally offended.

"You remind me of a baby panda," she said without thinking.

Maybe it was his _aura_. Maybe she was under some kind of post-traumatic shock that made her mind shut down and think irrationally. Hell, maybe after all these long years, she _finally_ decided to snap. Whatever it was, she was in deep shit already anyway. He was going to skin her alive. Then… feed her skin to a pack of rabid dogs or something. Then he'll throw her skinless body into his bus bonfire and roast marshmallows over it. He stared at her for a long time and she was beginning to feel like her life was threatened. She stopped and stared back at him. Then _he_ started laughing. So she laughed along with him as well. They went at it for a while, when all of a sudden there was a sharp tug on her scalp. He had pulled her hair again and now, threw her to the ground. He drew two long sharp knives out from his coat. He was no longer laughing.

_Shit. Shit_, her mind thought frantically.

"You're suicidal, aren't ya?" he asked her, licking his lips, then raising his voice. "_Aren't ya?_"

"Well, as much as you are," she replied him.

_Yep, definitely had lost her marbles._

"What?" he stopped short in his tracks.

"Well, I don't know, other people might think criminals such as you are suicidal too, you know," she talked rapidly. _Whatever, if she was going to die, she might as well make something of it._ "Willingly throwing yourselves into danger, provoking the cops to come at ya. And especially with the Batman too, you know, who can like beat you up and stuff with his gadgets and his car and his motorcycle. You know, maybe-_umph_!"

She was cut off as he covered her mouth with his gloved hand. She looked at him as he looked up in thought, lightly touching the tip of his knife to his chin.

"Hm, that's another way to look at it too," he grinned. "Never heard of suicidal before. Insane, yes, psychotic, crazy, freakish, schizophrenic… not suicidal though… Nope… don't think I have…"

She waited patiently for him to stop musing and remove his hand from her mouth. About five minutes passed like that, and she decided she'd have enough of his hand pressing against her breathing paths. So she licked him. It didn't have its full desired effect though, as he was wearing gloves, and it took her a couple of tries until he realized what she was doing. He took his hand off her and began playing with his knives, observing her again. He still wondered why she wasn't scared shitless of him. Anyone would, really, just by taking a look at his face and his knives. Hell, his voice alone sent shivers up a grown man's spine. It was always funny to watch, all he had to do was laugh and they'd bolt like hell.

"So, if you're _not_ suicidal, why are you here?" he asked her.

"So you don't think _you're_ suicidal?" she asked.

There was a thud next to the wooden pillar next to her. She looked to her left and saw his knife embedded in the wood, about an inch from her face. She fought the urge to shiver.

"Answer the freakin' question," he said impatiently.

"I thought that since you brought me here," she began. "I might as well enjoy the ride while it lasts. I'm on a whole different ride _now_. Hell, I don't think I could stop it anymore unless I bash you on the head right now and make a mad dash for it. But I'm not gonna do that. If I wanted to run away, I wouldn't have turned around earlier."

"Why?" he demanded.

"Well, really, frankly," she touched her bottom lip with a finger and looked up in thought. "I'm sick of life."

"So you _are_ suicidal," he raised an eyebrow. "Lookin' for a favour from the Joker?"

"Suicidal, no," her eyes widened. "Favour… maybe?"

"What does that mean, huh?" he jabbed another one of his knives at her.

"You think I could work for you?" she asked, getting morbidly excited. "Rob another couple of banks or whatever it is you usually do when you're not tangoing with the Bat."

_Definitely, unquestioningly, undeniably lost her freaking mind. What the hell was she thinking? Stupid!_

The Joker continued watching her, mulling about it in his mind as he played around with his knife, twirling it, sliding it across his lips, licking it. He actually didn't think it was such a _bad_ idea. He could probably even get some kick out of it. In fact, he was quite sure he would get a kick out of it. Maybe he'd be able to use her to get the Batman, stupid bat-marauding vigilante that likes rescuing damsels in distress… _distressing damsels… Heh_. But how did he know that she wouldn't rat him out in the end? Then he remembered her _eyes_ back at the bank when she was aiming at that guy's head. He also remembered her purple nails, which made him glance down at them. Her eyes, those eyes, they were a murderer's eyes. He knew a squealer when he saw one. He also knew a killer when he saw one. This girl was definitely not a squealer and definitely a killer. Why, he was quite sure she'd had pulled the trigger if the cops weren't fast on their way.

Hm, maybe he'd have to test her… _Now, what the hell is she doing?_

"Hello?" she had managed to crawl over to him unnoticed and began waving her hand in front of his face.

"Get the hell away," he growled.

She huffed but backed off all the same. He continued to eye her warily.

"Made up your mind whether to keep or throw me?" she asked.

He raised another eyebrow. She was actually talking about herself like a piece of thrash? Well, that's certainly _something_ that earned points in _his_ book. He let out a laugh, a sort of mad cackling laugh that made the girl scowl.

"Now what's so funny?" she crossed her arms, quite sure that he was laughing at her now.

She was also quite sure by now that losing her mind with this guy was going to spare her life. So she was going to completely lose her mind now. Kick it to the curb and all. But it was actually kind of hard to go bonkers with a creepy paint covered clown in front of you cackling like mad. It was really, _really_ creepy. It took a moment or two for him to stop laughing. Then he stood back up, dragging her upright along with him.

"Alright," he said, licking his lips again.

"Alright?" she looked at him in surprise and wariness. He could just be saying that, then when she turned around, he'd stick a knife in her head.

"Yeah, alright," he nodded. "Besides, I needed to hire some other guys to help me. But you'll do just fine."

She could almost laugh at the absurdity of it all. Not only was she still _alive_, but the Joker had actually _agreed_ on letting her tag along with him. Was it _Christmas_? Ugh, apparently not, her insides twist as he led her into some other room of the warehouse. Inside were about three dead rotting corpses. Five days old from the looks of it. The stink was unbearable. It was all she could do to not make a wild dash and deposit her insides into the nearest bucket. Did she mention the _blood_? What if it got onto her, huh? She didn't exactly have spare clothes in her pockets.

"Come, come, now, don't make that face," the Joker grinned at her.

She rolled her eyes at him. "I'm sure _you're_ used to this."

He laughed and grabbed one guy's legs, dragging him along the floor. He paused and looked up at her.

"Well, come on! Get his arms, it'll be faster that way!" he told her.

"Ugh," she sighed in disgust. "The things I do. Honestly."

The Joker merely grinned slowly at her. And somewhere, in some unknown, obscure part of her mind; she knew this to be a rather beautiful relationship.


	3. Falling

**A/N: I honestly don't know anymore. I don't know! I just don't know! (the name stuck to me and it just wouldn't go away too) ((the dance part wasn't supposed to be in there, but I just kept it to depict the awesome randomness.))**

**Tainted Purple**

_Chapter 2_

"_There must be some way out of here," said the joker to the thief._  
"_There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief.  
Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth.  
None of them along the line know what any of it is worth."_

He had no idea, could perceive nothing, about the woman sitting opposite him. She seemed perfectly at ease with him, no matter how many times he set his deadly stare upon her. Which was more than enough for any other person to break and begin going down on his knees. But noo, she… she wasn't like any other person at _all_, he came to realize. The night after he had 'taken her in', they had broken into this house. This ordinary house. Two people lived here, apparently, they were engaged, soon to be wed too. He told her to tie them up, stuff socks in their mouths. She did it, with ease too. Not only that, she even helped him in taunting them before stuffing them into a closet. The next morning, she took out the girl. She broke her. She then took out the guy, and broke him too. _Then_, she let him cut them into ribbons to burn in the backyard. And for whatever reason, she burnt their photos too.

_Ohh_, whatever she was trying to do, she was doing a hell of a job with it.

So much so, he was beginning to _like_ her.

Especially her purple nails. He had a thing for purple.

_Oh, but you should have seen it_, he eyed her. The way she smiled as she toyed with that blonde girl. It was the most amazing show he had seen for a long, long time. You'd have thought she had some personal vendetta against her. The way she slid _his_ knife on the girl's skin as she sobbed for mercy. For some odd reason, she really hated the girl. She spent a long time just listening to her scream and cry. Also, the way she scratched the guy on the back and he screamed because he thought she was using knives instead. She even branded him, which was pretty funny to watch. He kept saying "Not the balls! Not the balls!" It was so sick. He loved it. He never expected her to be actually capable of being so sadistic.

And right now, she was reading the newspaper while eating a sandwich. In the house of the people she had just killed and burnt a few hours ago. It was evening now. He was staring at her intently. She was either blissfully unaware or generally ignoring him. After a while, he began to scowl. He swiped half of her sandwich. Her eyes flicked up at him and narrowed. He looked at her with raised eyebrows, provoking her to lash at him. _Go on_, he smiled. He'd have an excuse to point his knife at her again. She merely rolled her eyes and went back to the news. He scowled again. There was nothing getting to her.

"Oy," he called.

"I have a name," she said lazily.

There was a moment of silence as they both realized something.

"I don't know your name."

"So you don't…" she placed the newspaper down.

"What _is_ your name?" he growled.

She was quiet for a long time. Probably deciding whether or not to tell him the truth or make up an alias for herself.

"It's Ace. Ace Spades," she sighed.

"Ace Spades?" he paused.

"Oh, fuck," she muttered and rolled her eyes again.

"Ace Spades!" he cackled maniacally.

"I knew you were going to laugh, I just knew it," she slapped a hand on her forehead. "Alright, laugh all you like. I was _supposed_ to be named Lilith Spades. I have no idea how Ace turned up instead… Although, I have a feeling that my uncle-"

"But that's a really good name!" he protested. "_Ace of Spades_, I like that."

"Yeah, that doesn't sound bad," she mumbled, frowning and looking quite melancholy.

"Not bad! Yeesh, I wish _I_ had that name," he told her, a disappointed look on his face. "Do you know what the Spades in a deck of cards mean? It means _death_. You're the Ace of Death!"

"Okay," she frowned deeper, looking down at the table. "We could always trade names."

"No, thanks," he said in a low voice.

"Coffee?" she asked, standing up.

"Sure, that'll keep me up at night," he said sarcastically.

"You do want to stay up tonight, right, planning and all," she said distractedly while she bustled about the kitchen. "Please say yes so I can have the bed all to myself. I kind of like my sleep, you know."

"Obviously," Joker rolled his eyes again.

She had slept for thirteen hours straight and it was pretty hard to wake her too. Didn't respond to loud sounds or being shaken. Water works well though, but it makes her scream like a bat from hell. He mentally cringed as he remembered the few choice words she screamed at him, making his eardrums ring for about half an hour that afternoon. Stupid broad. He should cut out her vocal cords.

"You know," she motioned at him with her finger as she came back with two mugs of hot coffee. "I still don't know what you're planning to do."

He watched her heap about five teaspoons of sugar into her coffee. Then she added milk too. He made a face and stuck out his tongue in disgust. Someone had a sweet tooth. _He_ preferred his coffee black.

"So are ya gonna tell me or not?" she asked, waving her hand around.

"Alright, I'll tell you," he rolled his eyes. "First, we're gonna hire a couple more guys."

She waited for him to continue. But he didn't. He took a big gulp of his coffee and stared at her instead.

"_And then_?" she stared back at him incredulously.

"Then…" he twirled his hand in the air. "Oh, right, we're supposed to do something else before that."

He suddenly got up and headed to the direction of the door.

"What!" she exclaimed and followed after him with her mug of coffee. "Where are you going?"

He suddenly stopped.

"What's the day today?" he asked, scratching his neck and scrunching up his forehead in thought.

"Wednesday," she stared at him.

"Right, it can wait," he headed back to the table.

Ace's shoulders drooped and she looked up at the heavens as if praying for God himself to descend from the Heavens to help her smite him. She then headed back to the table as well.

"Oh, but I can't just sit around doing nothing!" he complained. "Go dance for me!"

"You…" she looked at him in a mixture of annoyance and shock. "You dance yourself!"

"But there's no music!" he got up from his seat and went around the house, hunting for a stereo.

"Stupid clown can't sit still," Ace muttered.

"Watch your tongue or I'll cut it out," he threatened as he stomped by into the living room.

"Pfftt."

"I'm serious," his voice called.

"You can't hear me, the kitchen is too far away," she said, walking up to him.

"I can't," he said. "But I had a feeling you'd say something."

She smacked her forehead in exasperation.

"You know what? Coffee cannot appease me," she declared.

"Mm-hmm…" he hummed as he rifled through the CD collection.

"I shall begin my search for wine," she turned around sharply and marched off.

"You do that," he muttered distantly as he pulled out his CD of choice.

Ace headed back into the kitchen. She pulled out a chair to climb on and yanked open the top cupboard doors violently, just as the beginning notes of Beethoven's 9th Symphony wafted around the house. She rolled her eyes and frantically dug around for a bottle of Scotch. Glorious alcohol. She climbed down the chair and set the bottle on the counter. She was just beginning to open it when she was grabbed from behind.

"What the _hell_ are you doing!" she hissed as he dragged her around the kitchen in what can hardly be considered a waltz.

He ignored her, humming along to the tune as he brought her spinning around the dining table. She did not sign up for this! Dancing with the mass-murdering clown! She was going to shoot him, or stab him with his own knives. Ace growled and kicked his shin as hard as she could. She really didn't think of the possible consequences of her actions at the time.

"Ow," came his very disappointingly monotone, deadpan grunt.

Fuming, she marched back to the kitchen counter and poured down half a glass of Scotch and choked it with ice. He was mocking her, she knew it. He was bored and looking for a reason to kill her, even if he didn't actually need one. Well, she wasn't falling for that!

"I didn't think for you to be an alcoholic," he told her, sitting on the barstool.

She ignored him and searched through the drawers for a cigarette and lighter. She began smoking avidly.

"And a smoker too…" he said in mild surprise.

She blew smoke his way with narrowed eyes. He shrugged and headed into the living room to do whatever it was he was planning to do. She _hated_ Beethoven's 9th Symphony. It reminded her… reminded her of _him_. She scowled deeply and smashed her glass of Scotch against the floor. The Joker looked up to the commotion in the kitchen but decided that it wasn't worth his time. He had more pressing matters on his mind right now. He can't be her handler every minute of the day.

"Shit," Ace muttered as she went to pour herself another glass of Scotch.

She hated herself for losing control like that. She was always losing control of herself. _Like when she saw the couple…_ She took a large gulp of alcohol to calm herself as she leaned against the kitchen counter. Her hand shook as she held the cigarette up to her lips. She was disgusted with herself. She always turned to alcohol and cigarettes when she felt anger bubbling inside of her. At least, maybe now she had another outlet…

But of course, that wouldn't last long. It would be a matter of time until the Joker gets caught. She would beg for innocence when the time came though, saying that she was just a pawn in his game. She chuckled, it was so easy to manipulate people. But she still had to do whatever the Joker wanted her to do right now. Boasting of her own talents was _nothing_, when compared to the brilliance of the Joker. She needed to be careful… Besides, it didn't matter what he asked her to do. It didn't matter at all. She had lost all feeling, all remorse, all regret, a long time ago. She still remembered the spark of recognition in the mobster's eyes. That's right, she knew him too… When one needed information, one needed to turn to a reliable source. Of course, when you wanted information to _kill_, the mobs were always the best place to go.

_Of course_, what did you think? That any sane, normal woman would be so willingly brave to put up with the Joker? Of course not! Of course not… only a woman who had nothing, who had blood on her hands, would even _think_ of doing such a thing… such a _reckless_ thing. _Helping to rob banks_, she snorted at herself. That was the least of her worries.

She managed to drag her feet into the bedroom. She was looking out the window, into the dark starless night. She could see a pair of eyes staring back at her from the darkness. But when she blinked, they were gone, just the reflection of herself in the dark glass. She knew it was just her conscience playing tricks on her, that his demon was just haunting her, taunting her still from the grave. She knew, and she had grown accustomed to it, accustomed to ignoring it. She turned her back on the darkness and sat down on the bed. She stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside table and placed her now empty glass by it as well.

Blood was nothing. Death was nothing. The darkness though, _that_ was terrifying…

It was where her sins revisited her. Where her ghosts haunted her. Where she was bathed in blood a thousand times over. The rusty, decaying smell of iron would never leave her hands. Never. No matter how many times she tried to scrub them clean. Scrub them raw.

In a moment of exhaustion, she collapsed into the soft warm covers, eyes shut, embracing the darkness. Her own eternal punishment, her retribution. But it did not last long enough. She woke too easily. And he was standing above her. Watching her. She did not dare open her eyes, lest she would stare into his dark soulless eyes again. There was a rustle of fabric as he took off his coat. Then the bed shook as he fell onto it, not caring whether it would wake her. She had wakened long before that anyway. Then he was still, for a very long time, he just lay there, motionless, while she pretended to sleep.

Then something soft and smooth began trailing down her cheek, to her neck, her arms. Her breath caught in her throat. _Was that...?_ She had no idea what to do in this situation. She had never accounted for him to... She moved to look at him but his dark, raspy voice stopped her.

"_Don't_ turn around."

She let out the breath she was holding and laid perfectly still. His hand moved up again, touching her cheek and caressing her hair. Her heart beat frantically in her chest. How could he not hear that? How! She shivered lightly and closed her eyes tight, concentrating on her beating. She wanted to look at him, she really did. She wanted to see in his eyes whether he was expecting her to squeal, whether he was going to pounce on her, play a terrible joke on her… or if this was actually going to be her final moment.

"Are you afraid _now_?" his chilling voice spoke in her ear.

She could hear the laughter in his voice. Her eyes snapped open. She was just aware of her panting gasps. She swallowed and quietened down, closing her eyes again. He was still leaning over her. His fingers brushed against her lips and she turned sharply, an instinctive movement, a vital mistake. What met her gaze stopped her heart. His makeup was gone. _Gone_. She could see his scars, made vivid in the pale moonlight that filtered through the gaps. His eyes, now made visible, were no longer dark gaping holes. There was a fierce intensity in them that made her want to shudder as they were fixed on her. Then her gaze shifted to his features, free from all obscurity. His skin was surprisingly smooth, his cheeks were hollow but that was to be expected. She wished she could see his profile, just to examine the shape of his nose more clearly. She could write poems about it, perhaps… She noticed, belatedly, that there was an angry scowl on his beguiling face. She made a sound like a disappointed sigh, but disappointment was far from what she was actually feeling. She felt nauseated. Light-headed. She wanted to throw up.

This was the man behind the makeup.

This was the man behind the grin.

This man… made her heart cease to function. Made her hands shake. An excruciating pain gripped her dysfunction heart. She was truly gone now; she could feel his corruption take a toll on her. He grabbed her throat tightly and slammed her down onto the bed, choking her in his vice like grip. Her hands flew up to claw away at his fingers.

"I _told_ you not to look," he growled, malice dripping off every word.

But it was done. She had fallen, far too deep. A strangled cry escaped her lips as she tried to force the bile back down her throat and try to squeeze whatever oxygen available down to her lungs. He let go of her, scowling much too deeply. She didn't dare open her eyes anymore. She felt his presence leave the bed, and exit the room. She only had one question in her mind; _How low could you __**really**__ fall?_

"_No reason to get excited," the thief, he kindly spoke._  
"_There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke.  
But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate.  
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late."_


	4. Business

**A/N: I do wish there were more reviews. This fic makes me nervous, and the vote of confidence would help a lot… kthnx.  
**

**Tainted Purple**

_Chapter 3_

Lieutenant Jim Gordon was frustrated. He was _very_ frustrated, because apparently someone stole from his mob's bank. He was already up to his eyeballs with the mob, and now somebody else had to come along and give him more trouble. And who else again but that paint wearing scar grinning _clown_.

"What's this guy hiding under that makeup anyway?" he asked, stepping into the empty vault.

He threw the pictures onto one of the carts and looked up to Ramirez, only to find a certain someone standing by the door. Ramirez turned around as well and exchanged looks with the lieutenant.

"Can we get a minute, people, please?" she called, heading out of the vault.

Gordon held up the picture that was taken by the security cameras.

"Him again?" the caped crusader asked then paused. "Who's the girl behind him carrying the bag?"

"Apparently, one of the people that came into the bank," Gordon replied.

"He took a _hostage_?" Batman asked incredulously.

**--**

Clear green eyes snapped open. The brunette sat up in the bed and rubbed her eyes. She did not feel alive. But she wasn't dead either. This must be what a zombie feels like all the time. Poor zombies. She took a cold shower to jump start her brain into working order. When she got out, she found a black dress lying on the bed with a note. The sloppy scrawl with the smiley face decorating it told her to put it on. She had no idea what that meant. She wondered where he found the dress, and then realized that it must have belonged to the dead girl. She put it on anyway. It was an elegant thing, low neckline and thigh high slit. She even decided to use the makeup lying around the vanity table. She even took the jewelery to wear. They were pretty nice diamonds too. It did not bother her that she was stealing from the dead, not at all. She was full of sins anyway, chased by too many ghosts as is. She sprayed some perfume just to complete the look, then headed towards the kitchen. The Joker did not look at her as she came in.

She could still remember the events of last night in her mind so agonizingly clearly. She wished she couldn't. It made her heart want to stop functioning again. But she ignored them, ignored him too and searched the cabinets for cereal. She helped herself to a bowl and went to sit at the table. Silence ruled the household. She wondered, as she chewed as quietly as she could, how long anyone would realize that the previous owners of this place were no longer alive. The neighbors were totally oblivious to the dreadful screams of the previous day at any rate. It was a morbid topic to think about so early in the morning. Afternoon… whatever, her sense of time had always been warped. He still refused to talk to her. She dared a glance at him. She noted, with a little disappointment that his makeup was back on. Of course, the voice at the back of her mind said; he had to resume his role.

But damn it, he sure looked like he was in a sour mood today.

She got up from her seat, empty bowl in hand, and walked over to the kitchen counter to dump it in the sink. It was methodical, the only thing that remained normal in her situation. Then she washed the dishes and set them on the rack to dry. She washed her hands again and dried them with a paper towel. She could feel his heated glare on her back the entire time. When she turned around, his eyes had been averted to somewhere else again. She leaned against the counter and looked at him. _Stupid clown_, her mind hissed traitorously_. She knew what he was doing!_ Actually, she had no idea but she just liked to think she did. Just like how she liked to think that she was being brave and fearless in front of him when, really, her insides were as cold as ice whenever she even looked at him. The silence in the house stretched on.

"Alright, what's the next plan?" she asked, in what she hoped was a loud and clear voice.

He didn't reply her, but he did turn around to look at the clock on the wall. He ruffled his already messy hair and scowled.

"Let's go!" he said, standing up and motioning for her to follow him.

_Alright, we're gonna kill someone? Is that why he's so happy now?_ She stood straight in alarm then eyed him warily before hurrying along after him. He picked up a pencil on the way out of the door and pocketed it. He was grinning now as she closed the door behind her. This man had serious mood-swing issues. She hated being around volatile persons. They were so… _volatile_.

"Tell me, how much do you know about… the Falcone?" he asked.

"They're a mob gang," she replied, frowning slightly.

He nodded, motioning for her to go on.

"Maroni took over after Carmine," she rubbed her chin. "I used to work with 'em."

_That_ took him by surprise.

"You _worked_ with them?" he repeated.

"Yeah," she shrugged offhandedly.

"What for?" he asked curiously.

Her expression became guarded and she moved past him towards the garage. He went after her, waiting for her explanation.

"The usual stuff, money," she shrugged. "I'm not rich, you know, and before you came along, I had college."

"Really," he raised an eyebrow, not quite convinced.

"Yeah," she turned around and looked him dead in the eye.

_The nerve of this woman, honestly_, he shook his head with a smile. He took a step closer to her.

"I don't think that's the case, you know," he said quietly, his arm snaking around her shoulder to pull her down the sidewalk with him. "I think, that you were out for _blood_. That the only people who'd help you on your personal vendetta were the mobs. See, I think, you made a _deal_ with Maroni."

"You know a lot about me, huh?" she asked him flatly.

"I think I do," he grinned again. "See, people are just _so_ predictable. Did you honestly think whatever sane person, no matter how clever they are, would actually want to follow _me_ around?"

_Duh._

"No, no, no," he went on. "Only broken people would want to do that. Damaged goods, darling, those who think their lives are already over and they have nothing else to lose."

She pulled away from him sharply and gave him the most heart-stopping, fear-inspiring glare he had ever seen come from another human being. Why, it made him _proud_. She made an awfully good pet. That is, if she survived long enough. She grit her teeth at him and balled her fists tightly to stop herself from hitting him. He chuckled, thoroughly amused.

"Shut up," she forced herself to relax and walk on. "Are we walking there? Why didn't we take the car at the house?"

"Were we looking at the same car? That thing was _yellow_. Besides, I don't mind the exercise," he grinned. "You should too."

"You have no idea how much I want to hit you right now," she muttered.

"Be my guest," he gave a mock bow.

She stopped and took a deep calming breath. Infuriating clown. Fortunate for him, he was a much better player at the killing game than she was. She felt her coat being grabbed and she was dragged along down the sidewalk by him. He grumbled something about stupid little girls needing to catch their breaths because of his amazing good looks. She threw her empty pack of cigarettes at his head. He made another deadpan 'ow', much to her annoyance. After a while, he let go of her coat. They were by some kind of playground. There was a lone black four-wheel drive car sitting in the parking lot under a tall tree. He searched around in his coat and pulled out a car key. He pressed a button and the car's alarm sounded, headlights going on and off.

"Oopsie!" he laughed, switching the alarm off.

"We're _stealing_ a car?" Ace said, hands on hips.

"It's not really stealing, since it's already been stolen," he shrugged and headed towards the car. "Besides, did you really think I would walk?"

She chuckled slightly and followed him. Once inside, he started the engine and they drove towards the upper east side of Gotham City. Since they were coming in from the back, she did not really know what building it was, as he slowed down to park. But she would hazard a guess that it was a restaurant. A really big restaurant. The type that only wealthy business CEO's or playboy billionaires would go to. Joker got out of the car, motioning for her to follow, and like the obedient pet she was, she hurriedly went after him.

There were a couple of bodyguards standing outside a room. The Joker signaled for Ace to get ready to take them out. They went at them at the same time, pressing a hand on their mouths to muffle their cries as they slit their throats. They had come in a bit too late. The whole mob people, exactly whoever they are and wherever they came from, were assembled around the table, watching a television. Some Chinese guy was on it talking about their billions and billions worth of money being safe and some such. The Joker was listening intently, hiding behind the door. Ace wasn't really interested. All she heard was that they shouldn't worry about their money as they were in safe hands or something like that, when the Joker pushed open the door, laughing creepily. She rolled her eyes and slowly walked behind him. He liked making an entrance. Everyone inside the room, even the guy on the television, turned to look at him. They didn't look very friendly either.

"Ha, ha, hoo, hee, ha," he went dryly as he approached them. "And I thought _my_ jokes were bad."

"Give me one good reason why my boy here shouldn't rip your head off," one of the hostile mob members, Gambol, said, pointing at one of his cronies.

"How about a magic trick?" Joker asked rhetorically instead and stuck the pencil he picked up from the house into the table in front of him.

Ace crossed her arms and watched him twirl his hand above the pencil. Gambol did not look pleased and he motioned for his crony to get the Joker.

"I'm gonna make this pencil disappear," he informed them and then, in one swift movement, slammed the crony's head onto the pencil. "Tada!"

"God," Ace muttered, but chuckling all the same. Hey, you got to admit, that _was_ pretty funny. The Joker grabbed a chair and pulled it over to sit down. He then made exaggerated hand movements around the empty space where the pencil had been impaled on a moment ago.

"See? It's…" he exhaled. "It's gone!"

He then motioned for Ace to come over to sit beside him, probably so he can taunt the mob guys a bit more. _See? I have a girl with me too! Hehe_. Ace was not to say one of the most stunning women in the world, but with some makeup and a pretty dress, she could pass for one. _Oh_. _Ohh_. Now she knew the reason for the dress. Stupid, vain, narcissistic, show-off clown, she gave him a small glare, which he caught on to and grinned. The mob guys weren't much happy at seeing her with him, so completely at ease too when _they_ were on the edge of their seats.

"Hey, it's _you_," Maroni looked at her as she made herself comfortable in her chair. "You sure have a thing for psychopaths."

She threw him her most deadliest glare, screaming in her mind for him to shut up. She wanted to claw his eyes out with those nails of hers. Boy, if looks could kill, people would drop dead wherever she went. The Joker seemed to be amused at this exchange and he stored that piece of information in his mind for further jibes with the girl. He then caught a Russian mob member staring at him.

"Oh, by the way, the suit wasn't cheap. _You_ should know, you bought it," he said smugly, earning him a very angry Gambol that so very wanted to smash his head in.

"I want to hear his proposition," the Russian guy spoke.

Joker looked at Gambol in an innocent sort of way, cocking his head at the Russian guy with a look that said 'What he said'. Maroni looked away from Ace and she relaxed herself. In truth, it was easier for her to relax around the mob than being alone with the Joker. She arranged her body language to lean towards him, looking like she was totally enamored, just to rile some of the boys up a bit. Actually, more like making them feel the highest degree of revulsion, because they could never understand how anyone would be remotely attracted to the clown. _Yeah, well, I lost my mind_, Ace thought gloomily. Anyway, she was sidetracking. Gambol had decided to sit himself now and Joker finally went down to business.

"Let's wind the clocks back a year," he said. "These cops and lawyers wouldn't dare cross any of you. I mean, what happened? Did your balls suddenly drop off?"

Ace snickered and some of them turned to glare at her. Joker smirked, throwing an arm around her shoulders. Definitely getting stares for that.

"Hm?" he smiled. "See, a guy like me…"

"_Freak_," Gambol interjected, and some other guys laughed.

Ace's hand jerked from under the table, and a knife found itself embedded in the table by his hand. Gambol looked at her threateningly, which she was only too glad to return. She never did like him.

"A guy like…" Joker ignored their exchange, but his thoughts were clearly disrupted.

He removed his arm from around her shoulders and placed his hands on the table.

"Okay, look, listen. I know why you choose to have your-" he coughed into his hand. "-Little group therapy sessions in broad daylight. I know why you're afraid to go out at night."

He paused, looking around at them dramatically.

"_Batman_. See, Batman has shown Gotham your true colors, unfortunately. Dent? He's just the beginning. And as for the uh…" he pointed at the TV. "The television's so-called plan? Batman has no jurisdiction. He'll find him and make him _squeal_!"

He demonstrated it to them with his hands to emphasize his point. Lau looked awfully uncomfortable.

"I know the squealers when I see one," Joker went on, staring at him. "And…"

He pointed at him, with a look that obviously said he definitely thought the man was one. Lau switched off his camera, not wanting to hear any more of it.

"So what do you propose we do?" the Russian guy asked.

"It's simple," Joker brushed a lock of his hair back. "We ah… kill the Batman."

A few laughs erupted from around the table. Ace gave them an acid look that promised pain. She kind of liked being the silent associate that just gave people death looks to shut them up. The Joker looked around at them. He knew they were going to try to make this difficult for him. But he knew, too, that in the end, they would all fall neatly into his hands. So he didn't really mind playing along, _for now..._

"If it's so simple," Maroni said. "Why haven't you done it already?"

"If you're good at something, never do it for free," Joker replied him.

"How much you want?" the Russian guy asked.

Ace smirked. As if the Joker _really_ wanted money.

"Uh…" he leaned forward. "Half."

The mob members began laughing again. But the top guys were not. They knew, too, that the Batman was definitely the root of all their problems. They were _definitely_ thinking about it.

"You're crazy," Gambol hissed.

Joker twitched. "I'm not… No, I'm not."

Ace shifted in her seat, frowning slightly. She didn't like the growing tension. She had no idea what the Joker had in mind.

"If we don't deal with this soon," Joker said, raising his hands with a shrug and making a face. "Little… Gambol here? Won't be able to get a nickel for his grandma."

_"Enough_ from the clown," Gambol banged the table and got up from his seat, definitely furious.

"Ah!" Joker got up as well, opening one side of his coat and pulling on a string. "Let's not _blow_ this out of proportion."

Everybody started getting up in alarm as he waved his hand with the string around. Gambol stopped a couple of feet away from him.

"You think you can steal from us and just walk away?" Gambol asked heatedly.

"Yeah," the Joker replied simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well, I'm putting the word out now," Gambol said. "Five hundred grand for this clown, dead. A million alive, so I can teach him some manners first. I'll throw another five hundred for the girl too, _alive_."

Ace shot out from her seat, face livid and ready to claw him to death or carve his face with the pencil in his buddy's brains. Either way, Gambol was going to feel her wrath.

"Don't mess with the kid, she's a feisty one," Maroni said, clearly amused by her reaction.

She took a step forward but the Joker stayed in her way. He pointed at Gambol then turned towards the others.

"Alright, so… you give me a call, when you decide to do things a _little_ more seriously. Here's my card," he took out a Joker playing card from his coat and placed it on the table. "Let's go, doll."

She threw a couple of knives at random directions, managing to hit one guy in the arm, before marching off like the good old saying of hell hath no wrath like a woman scorned. The Joker waved his hand with the string around as he backed out of the room to where Ace was holding the door, waiting for him. He made it out and she slammed the door behind them.

"Psychos, huh?" Joker smiled at her, letting go of the string.

"Shut up," she growled, hitting pots and pans to clatter on the floor in her wake.


	5. Tears

**A/N: Hmm. Thanks for those that reviewed so far! I know there's potential for more. My stats tell me so. I will give you a cookie? Mmkay? Cookie? :D Or maybe jelly donuts, or cake? With extra toppings? Come on, pleeease, reviews make my day all the more brighter! You have the power to make this author the happiest person alive! :D (gives puppy eyes... and cookies)  
**

**Tainted Purple**

_Chapter 4_

The darkness engulfed her, threatened to choke her. She leaned against the pillar and looked out the window into the rainy night. Lightning flashed across the sky and thunder rumbled, a scene right out of a mafia movie. She waited, taking a drag from her cigarette. There was a click from the door opening, and dull footsteps approached her. She brushed a lock of her dark hair from her face, and looked at the man heading her way. Sal Maroni smiled at her as he took off his wet coat and patting the water droplets off it. She watched him toss it over an armchair before loosening his tie.

"Hey, Ace," he greeted her.

"How was your day, Sal?" she asked in a slightly husky voice, a result from chain-smoking non-stop for three weeks.

"Ah, you know, the usual," he replied lightly.

He walked towards her and joined her for a smoke. They watched the rain pour down the dirty, gritty city streets in silence for a moment.

"He's elusive, you know," he told her.

"I know," she blew a puff of smoke at the ceiling.

"It'll take a lot of effort and a lot of time to track him down," he went on.

"I know."

"What are you going to do with him when you find him?" he asked curiously.

She examined the ceiling for a long time before shifting her gaze to look into his eyes.

"What am I gonna do?" she asked him, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "Well, first, I'm gonna carve his face, just like how he carved Anna's face, you know. Then I'll break every bone in his arms and legs, like how he did it to David. Next, I'll tear his skin off, like Seth. Then I'll cut his balls off for what that _fucking_ thing did to Sara."

She let out a laugh and raised her hand to rub her face. He could see a glinting diamond on her ring finger through the darkness that covered her like a blanket.

"Then I'll cut him into pieces, just like Aidan…" she whispered.

Maroni watched her for a little longer, a long inquisitive stare. As if he was trying to find proof in her half visible face, whether she really had the guts to do such a thing. He had seen the things she put up with, how it never seemed to affect her. He knew, that she was just a walking shell of a human being, devoid of all conscience. Six months later, he got his answer. A bloody mess on the floor and a discarded diamond ring.

**--**

Ace closed the curtains with a flick of her wrist. He had been gone for more than three hours. She paced around the kitchen, resisting the urge to grab another cigarette. How many times did she have to tell herself that the things were bad. _Bad_. She did, however, pour herself another glass of wine. She leaned against the counter, taking a sip of wine and rubbing her face with her hand. He wasn't going to leave her here, was he? Oh, God, maybe he did plan on leaving her here. Maybe he rigged the place with C-4s. Maybe he was gonna sacrifice her for one of his amusing_, mind-blowing_ firework shows. Oh, she felt sick now. Oh, God, she really _did_. She clamped a hand to her mouth and made a dash to the toilet, heaving the contents of her stomach into it. The door to the house opened then, the intruders heard her loud retching and frowned in confusion. Red lips, however, smiled.

"I told you that drinking on an empty stomach was bad," he grinned down at her from the doorway.

She had probably upchucked her entire stomach into the toilet bowl now and was just hanging off the seat, trying to catch her breath. Her head snapped up at the sound of his voice though. She would never admit it, even if he threatened to cut her face off, how relieved she was to hear his voice. She narrowed her eyes at him though and told him to fuck off and let her feel miserable by herself. The Joker chuckled and headed back into the living room where the newly hired goons were awkwardly waiting.

"Don't worry, it's just the cleaning lady," he told them. "She found the owners' bodies in the thrash can."

A knife went whizzing through the air and impaled itself on the wall directly opposite him. He really needed to know how she was always stealing his knives. Ace stomped down the hall to retrieve it. Her hair was a mess, her skin was paler than ever and she had dark rings around her eyes. The hired guys looked at each other with thinly disguised fear. Was that how they were going to look after spending a few days with the Joker?

"You," Ace turned around, pointing her knife at him. "Should have called."

"What are we, playing house?" he held his hands up, looking at the knife.

"Shut up," she rolled her eyes, body swaying slightly. She felt light-headed.

"Ah, you _are_ drunk," he said, quickly swiping the knife out of her hand before she could impale other things with it.

She promptly fell to the ground, unconscious.

"Leave her there," the Joker waved his hand as one of the guys moved to help her.

He instantly stopped in his tracks and didn't move another inch. The Joker pocketed his knife and prodded her with her foot. He kicked her around onto her back.

"Jesus, she really is unconscious," he rolled his eyes and made a couple more choice remarks about his so-called partner-in-crime.

He then picked her up from the floor and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He headed towards the bedroom and dumped her onto the bed before heading out again. Ace groaned and rolled over, falling off the side. She cried out loudly and began cursing in about five languages. The Joker turned around at the doorway to look at her in amusement. She really was a good source of entertainment sometimes. Her arm popped out from the other side of the bed and managed to get a grip on the mattress. Her head came out a moment later, hair dishevelled and eyeliner all smudged.

"I hate you, I swear to God," she said as her eyes focused on him.

"Are you, ah… slightly not so intoxicated anymore?" he asked her.

"I only drank like three gla- _you bastard_!" she screeched. "_You spiked my alcohol! Why did you spike my alcohol!_"

"I'm surprised you hadn't noticed that earlier. Oh, don't be such a hussy already," he told her, walking over and dragging her along with him out of the room. "Meet our new friends! This is David, and Shawn, and Isaac!"

"What the hell are they here for?" she asked, still a little woozy.

"We're gonna pay a visit to our ol' pal Gambol!" he grinned excitedly. "Who, I might add, is out on the warpath right now. For my blood, apparently. And maybe yours too."

"Exactly, Gambol wants you dead," she told him, taking a seat on the floor. Her head hurt so much.

"Hehe! That's the fun part!" he told her.

She groaned and clutched her head. "Stop talking!"

"Alright, fellas, here's the plan," he turned to the terrified three and began explaining his plan with many exaggerated hand movements. "You're gonna go over to Gambol's and tell them that you got me, and that you brought the body. Got me so far? Great, you're gonna tell them that you got the girl too, and that she's drugged so she's acting all weird and funny."

"Screw you!" she yelled at him.

"When they got me in there, and he's gonna go pay you guys, I jump up all alive," he went on, grinning and waving his hands about excitedly. "You're gonna grab his other buddies, got me? You can leave the rest to me after that."

"Sure, boss," they nodded obediently.

"Are we going now?" Ace whined.

"Yes, we are, doll face, so up, up, up," he told her then paused. "You know what? Why don't you freshen yourself up a bit, don't want to look _completely_ wasted, do you? You look like shit right now. I think I put a _bit_ too much."

"I'm gonna kill you," she shook her head, her words coming out like mush. "Daniel, or whatever your name was, get the thrash bags ready, I am going to kill this fucking clown!"

"Tut, tut, darling, language now," he patted her cheek. "Now go clean yourself up before **I** cut you to ribbons and feed them to ol' Russia's pet dogs."

She glared at him, but under her drugged state, it didn't look so intimidating. She managed to get herself up into a standing position and stumbled her way towards the bathroom again. The Joker turned to his three thugs, who backed away a little, and smiled.

"She's a keeper, ain't she?"

About forty-five minutes later, Ace stumbled out of the bedroom with a short black dress and matching coat on. She even had time to do her hair and makeup as well as grab a clutch. She was great on the acting part. Now she really looked like she got drugged while out having a drink somewhere. And she didn't look so bad either, so that was a plus. He motioned for her to come over so he can recite the whole plan to her befuddled brain again. Once she finally managed to wrap her mind around the whole thing, they went off to Gambol's pool place. The Joker helped to squirt some eye drops into Ace's eyes and made them run down her cheeks to make it look like she had been crying. She also smudged her makeup a bit while the Joker arranged himself in the makeshift body bag. Soon, the car pulled to a stop.

One of the thugs, Shawn maybe, a tall lean dark-skinned guy with cornrows opened the car door and pulled her out roughly for the cameras to see. The other two thugs went to the door to recite their story. Ace made a pathetic attempt at struggling with the death like grip on her arm. They waited for a while as Gambol was informed of their arrival. The okay was given for them to go in and two other guys came out to get the Joker's body. Shawn shoved her roughly inside, and she gave him a little glare to show how little pleasure she derived from being manhandled by him. To her satisfaction, he was terrified enough to start pushing her around a bit more gently. They approached Gambol now. The Joker was placed on top one of the pool tables. Gambol walked over and flipped the plastic covering his face. _Whoa, he really did look dead_, Ace stared,

"Oh, God," she let out a realistic whimper.

Gambol looked up from the Joker to her. He smiled snidely.

"You brought the girl too," he said, sounding happy. "What did you do? Drug her?"

Shawn nodded silently.

"Maroni told me about you," he pointed at her. "The Ace of Spades, made quite a name for yourself back in the day. Well, not so tough now, are you?"

She remained silent, staring at him with her smoldering eyes. It was like the sound of her old alias managed to sober her up a bit.

"So, that's five hundred for the girl," he said. "And another five hundred for the Joker, dead."

"How about alive?" the unmistakable voice of the Joker asked, as he jumped up from the table.

Gambol turned around and he grabbed his head, sticking a knife at his face. Shawn and the others grabbed Gambol's men. Ace threw a knife at the lone guy behind the Joker.

"Uh, darling, I don't think you should be handling knives tonight," the Joker said to her. "Or other questionable items as well."

"_You_ drugged me," she pointed at him accusingly.

Gambol looked at the Joker in disgust. He turned back to him and smiled slightly.

"You wanna know how I got these scars?" he leaned in to his ear to ask.

"You never volunteered to tell _me_ about your scars," Ace crossed her arms in a jealous manner.

_She was so annoying when drugged_. The Joker ignored her and nodded to Gambol instead. He had a serious face on.

"I'll tell ya," he said to him. "My father… was a drinker, and a fiend. And one night, he goes off _crazier_ than usual. Mommy gets the kitchen knife to defend herself. He doesn't like that. Not. One. Bit."

Ace listened to him intently. Something flickered in her eyes for a moment and she crossed her arms. She knew it was all lies, but a part of her wanted to believe his words. Believe that there actually was a reason. Though, should there be a reason? He went on.

"So, me watching, he takes the knife to her, laughing while he does it. He turns to me and asks," his voice turning a more menacing tone. "_Why so serious?_"

She wished she could see Gambol's face right about now. He must be shitting himself so badly. A smile crept onto her face as she took pleasure in his fear.

"He comes at me with the knife. _Why so serious?_ Sticks the blade in my mouth. _Let's put a smile on that face_. And…"

The Joker paused. Ace walked towards them, snaking her hands up Gambol's back to his shoulder. She leaned forwards so her lips were by his ear. Gambol couldn't tear his gaze from the Joker, but the voice in his ear was equally menacing.

"Do you know what comes after _fear_?" she asked.

Ace smiled, taking a step back and drawing out a calling card from her coat.

The Joker smiled, then turned to look at one of Gambol's subordinates. His eyes flicked from Ace to the Joker, apprehension building behind them as they looked into soulless eyes.

"Why so serious?" Joker asked him.

It was done in a split second, with a singular upward move of his arm. Gambol fell to the floor, blood flowing freely from the long jagged wound, looking quite dead. He would bleed to death, eventually. Ace smirked to herself. Positively mild. She flicked the calling card onto the body. He deserved something better than that, she lamented. Joker tore the plastic off of him and walked around the pool table.

"Now!" he said, business-like. "Our operation is small. But, there is a lot of potential for… _aggressive_ expansion!"

He picked up a pool stick as he was talking and squeezed his hands together before throwing his arms out to the sides to emphasize his words.

"So, which of you fine gentleman would like to join our team?" he asked in a sing-song voice. "Oh! There's only one spot open right now, so we're gonna have… "

He broke the stick in half.

"Try-outs!"

He threw one half of the stick onto the floor and threw the other one to Ace as he walked out.

"Make it fast!" he waved.

Ace ran after him, poking his back with the stick. He glanced down at her.

"Abusive father, huh?" she asked.

"Shut up," he told her.

"I had an abusive father too, you know," she said, sounding woeful.

He turned around and grabbed her. He pushed her against the wall and pinned her beneath him. He took the stick from her hand and pointed the sharp end beneath her chin.

"I thought I told you to _shut up_," he said menacingly.

"You don't think I actually believed you?" she asked him.

"You think I actually believe _you_?" he asked back.

"I'm sure we don't believe each other," she said, laughing nervously.

"You're right about that," he licked his lip.

"Stop fucking around," she told him heatedly. "Are you going to let me go or what?"

"You don't seem to be drugged anymore," he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Well, I suppose you gain resistance with this sort of thing," she shrugged.

He smiled like he knew what she was talking about. She looked back at him, hoping that he didn't.

"Why-"

"Do you know the reason why I keep you?' he interrupted her.

"No, and frankly, I don't give a damn," she replied.

"You really don't want to know?" he looked at her doubtfully.

"No, I don't," she smiled laughingly.

"It took me a while, I admit," he started. "But I soon came to notice the little things."

"Little things?" she repeated.

"You're good at hiding things, I'll give you that," he said. "But you think you can hide the _fear_ forever?"

Her eyes hardened and her face smoothed into an emotionless mask. He could feel her body tense beneath his. He slowly grinned down at her.

"_Your pupils dilate_," he whispered, leaning in closely. "Your heart races, pumping more blood into your veins, so your cheeks are a little more flushed against your pale skin. Your muscles contract so tightly, sometimes you're afraid they might… just… _break_."

Her breathing stopped as small fragments of memories came rushing back to her. _His_ knife, _his_ grin, _his_ voice, _his_ breath… _so alike_. Flashes, flashes of her nightmares flew before her eyes. Laughter, mingled with blood, and such vague emotions she could scarcely remember feeling. She gasped and struggled against him, lashing out her hands to beat him, but he grabbed her wrists and slammed them onto the wall on both sides of her head. The broken pool stick clattered onto the floor noisily. He shifted slightly to keep her body pinned beneath his. He was still smiling, amused.

"Did I hit a nerve?" he asked innocently.

"Go away," she let out a shuddering breath.

"When I first met you, I thought I was losing my touch," he continued. "Glad to know that that's not true."

"Let go," she said in a quiet voice.

"No," he shook his head, enjoying himself with toying with her.

"Let. Go," she repeated in a louder voice.

"_No_."

"_Let go of me, damn it!_" she shrieked.

He chuckled at her and released his grip from her wrists, which were now red and slightly bruised. She grit her teeth and closed her eyes, breathing heavily. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and led her out to the car. She gave him the meanest glare she could muster at the moment. Her eyes were red with unshed tears of anger.

"Oh," he said in a soothing voice. "Don't look at me like that. You know I didn't _mean_ it."

"Go to hell," she hissed, her voice shaking from anger.

He laughed and swiped at the traitorous tears that escaped her eyes on both cheeks.

"You women always amuse me," he told her. "You have all these pent-up _emotions_, that you just can't _control_!"

She refused to say anymore as he led her into the car. He walked to the other side and sat in the driver's seat. He turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the driveway. She was going to plot his murder in her sleep tonight.


	6. Bats

**A/N: (hands out cookies and other confectioneries to reviewers) You guys are awesome! :D  
**

**Tainted Purple**

_Chapter 5_

_That Baby's got new clothes,  
But lately, I see her ribbons and her bows  
Have fallen from her curls._

Ace sighed, resting her forehead on her bruised left wrist as she stirred her cup of coffee. She was beginning to like the dead girl now; she had an amazing array of designer clothes. She was now wearing a white sweater over a black camisole and jeans with ankle-length leather boots. She was really vain about her looks sometimes. The three thugs plus the new guy, whose name was apparently Quinn, were in the living room. They made a sort of camp in there. They didn't want to share the guest room, for some reason that she didn't bother to question. The Joker was occupying the office, plotting on somebody else's murder. She didn't care anymore. She was too pissed off with him at the moment. Her wrists hurt like a bitch.

"So," David asked in a low voice, thinking Ace wouldn't be able to hear them. "What do you think is up with Ace and the Joker?"

"I don't know, man, I really don't know," Shawn shook his head hopelessly.

"Sounded like they were having a fight last night, weren't they?" Isaac said. "Why hasn't he killed her yet?"

"I heard she was like his whore or something," Quinn supplied, picking at the thread of a pillow.

"Wouldn't be surprised, did you see his bags of money?" David said with wide eyes. "It's like loaded in there!"

"She doesn't look like some ho, though," Shawn shook his head. "She looks as scary as he does. Did you see her take down that guy without blinking? Hit him right on target too, and she was drugged senseless before that."

"Maroni said he knew her," Quinn said, remembering.

"She worked for the Falcone, right?" Isaac raised an eyebrow. "Gambol called her Ace of Spades last night."

"Yeah, yeah, now that I think about it," Quinn sat up on the couch. "I've heard of her before. Some girl called Ace of Spades that Maroni took under his wing. Heard she killed dozens of guys while she was working with him."

"How did she end up with the Joker?" David cocked his head to the office.

"Heard she quit after she found this guy," Quinn told them. "Ugh, it was horrible what she did. The Bosses kept using her story to scare the new guys, saying they'll hand 'em over to the Ace. Of course, they think she's just a myth anyway."

"What did she do?" Shawn frowned.

"Carved his face up real bad, I heard," he said. "Then she broke all his bones and ripped off his skin. And then he ripped off his balls too-"

"Oh, God," the guys chorused together.

"-and then cut him up into little pieces."

"Why?" David asked.

"Don't know, man," he shrugged, lying back down. "Something about revenge, I think. Heard he killed her fiancé and her family. They said she used to be pregnant too."

"Wow," Isaac frowned. "For a woman, she must have gone bonkers after that."

"Must have," Quinn shrugged again.

"I mean, like, to hang around the _Joker_?" he made a disbelieving face.

"The Joker seems to like her too, actually," David said, leaning against the couch.

"Man, that's a match made in hell," Shawn shuddered.

She heard it all, unfortunately for them. Ace chuckled to herself in the kitchen as she took a sip from her coffee. Fancy them knowing about her, huh. _Pregnant_, her face fell slightly. She balled her fists as her face crumpled into an anguished expression. She bit down a choked sob as she forcibly repressed memories that threatened to surface. Her head snapped up, her face turning into an emotionless mask, when she heard the doorknob to the office turn slowly, as quietly as it could. He poked his head out the door and looked down the hallway. He saw her in the kitchen, staring back at him. His head turned to the sound of hushed voices from the living room and he turned back to Ace. He stepped out of the office and closed the door behind him very quietly again.

"They're talking about us, you know," she whispered to him as he approached her.

"Really, now?" his lips curling into an amused smile.

"Seem to think we're a couple," she made an incredulous face.

"Ain't that funny," he was grinning at her now, he knew that made her uncomfortable.

She stared at him blankly for a long while.

"I'm not talking to you," she continued whispering, not wanting the boys back there to hear as well.

"Yeah?" he was enjoying this conversation, she could tell.

"In fact, I'm shunning you."

"Mm-hmm," he hummed.

He turned around and walked purposefully to the living room. She slid out of her chair smoothly and followed him like a shadow.

"_Hello_, gentlemen," he greeted them loudly, causing them all to jump a foot into the air and scramble to stand up. "Did you enjoy your little _gossip_ session?"

"Fucking hell, did you hear him come out?" David hissed.

"No!" Isaac hissed back, while the other two shook their heads.

Ace chuckled at them, taking a seat in an armchair and nursing her cup of coffee. Joker began drumming his fingers on the mantelpiece. The henchmen didn't relax any until he went to lie down on the couch. Ace sipped her coffee as he dug around in his coat. He procured a card from his pocket and held it up to show to Ace. It was the Ace of Spades card. He pointed at it, grinning widely like the Cheshire Cat.

"Hey, look, doll! It's you!" he laughed and flicked the card at her.

She rolled her eyes and let it land on the floor next to her foot. As if she hadn't heard that one before. Back in her mob days, she constantly left Ace of Spades cards on her victims. Dealing out death cards, Maroni used to say. He then stuck his hand back into his coat pocket and withdrew a Joker card.

"I need," he held up the card. "You guys to get me some DNA samples on this card."

"DNA samples?" Ace repeated dryly.

"Yes, _D-N-A sam-ples_," he repeated after her slowly as if they were in kindergarten.

She narrowed her eyes at him and gave him a look that promised hot coffee poured down his pants. He grinned at her and turned back to the guys.

"I need DNA samples of Police Commissioner Loeb, Judge Surillo and Harvey Dent," he listed.

"Are you planning on killing them?" Ace asked. "How are you going to do that, by the way?"

"Firstly," he raised a finger at her. "We are going to catch a bat. And while we are catching a bat, the four of you are going to somehow get those fingerprints, got me?"

"_Catch a bat?_" she looked at him, contemplating on throwing her whole cup of coffee at him now, liquid and porcelain.

"I want those fingerprints by tonight, chop, chop!" the Joker yelled, causing the four henchmen to run out of the room, leaving them.

"Oh, twinkle twinkle little bat, how I wonder where you're at," Ace began singing sarcastically.

"Up above the world you fly, like a tea-tray in the sky," he clasped his hands together and cocked his head with an annoying grin on his face.

"I am shunning you. Shunning," she informed him, temper flaring, getting up and heading towards the kitchen to brood.

"Oh, come here, doll," he grabbed her arm before she could bolt off. "I can't catch bats all by myself. I need bait, you know!"

"Bait," she scoffed. "I think there's a net in the shed. Want me to go check?"

"You know what I mean," his expression grew serious, as he looked her in the eye.

Realization dawned on her.

"Oh."

"Oh?" he nodded for her to go on.

"Why, you don't need bait!" she exclaimed. "Those idiot wannabes like to hang around the roofs of tall buildings! There's always at least one of them there!"

"Are there _really_ that many of them?" he frowned.

"You do know that psycho kids paint themselves like clowns and run around shooting people too, right?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, I'm popular too!" his face lit up like a light bulb.

"Uh-huh."

"I still need you to draw their attention though," he told her.

"Why?" she whined, obviously having no inclination of stepping out of the house.

"You really think I want to climb all the way up to the roof?" he asked her, dragging her towards the door.

"Exercise will be good for you," she told him. "Anyway, how _else_ are we going to catch a bat if we don't go up to the roof?"

"Do you want me to slam you against the wall again?" he asked frustratedly.

"I know you were just feeling me up," she said and he slammed her against the door.

"Ow!" she cried loudly as the doorknob jabbed into her back.

"You asked for it," he told her, shrugging.

"Urgh!" she pushed him off her, exasperated, and opened the door while massaging the sore spot on her back.

"I was just giving you what you wanted, _honey_," he said in a sugary voice.

"Don't call me that, God," she gave him a disgusted look. "Doll, doll-face and darling, I can put up with. But other than that, I'm just gonna puke."

"I thought we were a couple?" he pouted.

She shuddered.

"I'd rather be maimed by a bear."

He scowled at her, grabbed her again and pushed her into the car. They backed out of the driveway and onto the road. Ace crossed her arms and huffed at him, realizing that she submitted way too easily to him.

**--**

Ryan Lowes was a good person, he really was. He never did anything bad, never cheated on his tests and always listened to his elders when he was young. He made all his deadlines and he worked hard. However, he was still always targeted by those bullies, those tyrants. They never left him alone. But he accepted this as his identity. He didn't _always_ have to be poor Ryan that got picked on at the schoolyard and the office. No, he decided. So one day, he found the Batman, a still silent dark sentinel on top of one of the city's buildings. He followed him for a while as best as he could. He sketched out a little plan in his head too. The next day, he set to work designing the costume. His sister was a great help. She was the only person in the world that understood him, the only person that would support him. He vowed that he would protect her at all costs. The Batman _inspired_ him.

"Ugh! Stop it!" a shrill voice pierced the air.

Ryan turned his head sharply to look at the direction of the voice. It seemed close by. There were some shuffling noises and hushed whispers, then a high-pitched scream erupted from the other side of the roof, and mad maniacal laughter. He started, pulse racing. For a split moment, he wanted to run away, then berated himself for thinking that. _This was his chance_. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. He was going to make Hailey proud of him now. He ran as fast as his legs could to the other side of the roof. He stopped as he saw a dark figure towering above a helpless young woman that was on the ground. It had its arm around her neck and a knife threatening to cut her cheek. Ryan swallowed nervously.

"Unhand her!" he said in a loud voice, hoping that it sounded brave and strong.

The mad laughter sounded again.

"Really? Says who?" the dark figure asked.

"_Says me_," the woman turned, holding some kind of huge gun in her hand.

"Wha-?"

"Twinkle, twinkle little bat!" she called and pulled the trigger.

A massive net sprung out from it at him. He tried to run, but it was too late. The net wrapped itself around him and pulled him to the ground. The Joker let go of Ace and walked towards the fake Batman, smiling on an easy job well done. Ace stood up and followed him, watching the wannabe struggle against the ropes in vain.

"Told you it was easy," she chirped, hands on her hips.

"Well, I wasn't expecting this…" he told her, cocking his head to the side. "Are they all really this wimpy?"

"Looks young," she said, as if she was really inspecting a bat and not a human being.

"It does, doesn't?" the Joker's grin widened.

"W-Wh-What do you want from me!" Ryan cried.

"How old are you?" Ace squat down to look at him.

"T-twenty," he stuttered, terrified.

"Have family?" she asked sweetly.

"P-please don't do anything to them!" he begged.

"Oh, we won't," she smiled and stood back up. "Maybe."

He shot her a look of pure horror.

"Come on," the Joker said, grabbing the netgun from her.

"W-What are you doing?" Ryan asked.

Ace and the Joker exchanged glances before looking back down at him. Ace smiled just as the Joker flung the netgun down onto his head, effectively knocking him unconscious.


	7. Lust

**A/N: Oh, this is a longer than usual chapter. Well, I'm not actually sure if Joker knows Crane personally or not. But let's say he does! And I think Cillian Murphy is just too gorgeous to not have a cameo. :D**

**Tainted Purple**

_Chapter 6_

Ace slipped on a pair of black gloves onto her hand. She looked around cautiously as the men picked apart at the security. There was a loud clatter and a string of curses followed after it. She looked sharply at the commotion, finding Isaac had somehow managed to electrocute himself.

"Be quiet," she hissed at him.

Ed and Luke were walking towards them from the other side of the building. They were the new guys the Joker hired. She always wondered how he managed to find henchmen. You'd think with his reputation, people would be scared shitless with working with him. Apparently not, though. Ace gave them a questioning look. They nodded back in reply. She smiled satisfactorily as they handed her the keys. Isaac was done messing with the wires too. She turned towards the door and began trying keys. Soon, they were inside City Hall. Isaac quickly located the Commissioner's office and they took the stairs up. They exited the stairwell on the seventh floor and headed down the hallway to the office. To Ace's surprise, she found it was open. She pushed the door quietly and took a step in.

"_Howdy_."

"Shit!"

She jumped about a foot into the air and reached for her gun, only to find the Joker smiling at her from the window side. The moonlight cast an eerie glow around him and his face was cast into shadows. She let out a small sigh of relief but didn't relax any. She glared at him.

"Jesus Christ, what are you doing here?" she hissed. "Moreover, how did you get in here?"

"I took the elevator," he grinned. "And picked the lock."

"And here we were, worried about being cautious," she rolled her eyes.

He chuckled, walking around the table. The henchmen waited outside to keep the coast clear. Ace closed the door behind her and walked towards the table, looking through the drawers. The Joker walked around the room, trailing his fingers along surfaces. His dark eyes scanned the files that were arranged neatly on the shelves. He had been feeling _extremely_ curious lately.

"You used to work for the mob," he said conversationally. "Do they have any records of you?"

"Maybe a few unsolved cases about mysterious calling cards being the only evidence left at the scene of a crime," she smirked. "I'm very neat."

She found the bottle of brandy and placed it on the table. She then pulled out a test tube filled with a colourless liquid. She uncorked it, opened the bottle of brandy and poured the acid into it. The Joker watched her closely from the corner of the room.

"Calling cards?" he mused.

"I leave Aces of Spades on my victims," she smiled, pocketing the empty test tube and replacing the brandy in exactly its original position. "It's so convenient to have a name so similar to a card."

"Indeed," his eyes flashed.

Ace's gaze lowered towards the table and the picture of the Commissioner with his family. She tipped the frame over unconsciously and strode out of the room, job accomplished. The Joker followed her out and she locked the door. They calmly made their way back to the car parked a few ways away from the building. The Joker grabbed the back of Isaac's shirt as he was getting into the driver's seat. The poor man let out a strangled yell. Ace paused behind them, eyes wide with surprise and confusion.

"You're coming with _me_," he said in a cheerful tone.

He turned to walk towards his own car parked a block away, dragging Isaac along with him. The man threw Ace a pleading, helpless glance. Ace looked at the both of them in amusement. But her expression quickly fell. The Joker usually went off with _her_. If she was not in on whatever he was doing, then it was something she wouldn't like at all.

"Where are you going?" she asked suspiciously.

"_Shopping_," came his overly cheerful reply.

"I don't like that tone," she called.

The look on Isaac's face suggested that he didn't like it either.

"Go home," the Joker waved his hand at her.

He didn't seem intent on turning around and she didn't really want to follow him. _Poor Isaac_, she thought and turned towards the others. They got into the car and she drove them back to the house. The henchmen shuffled into the house and gathered themselves in the living room as usual. They promptly began coming up with cruel and unusual ways the Joker could do to kill Isaac. Ace made hot chocolate in the kitchen.

"No, no, Joker is going to push him in front of a bus," Quinn said.

"More like throw him off a building, really," David quipped up. "Head first!"

"Actually," Ace leaned against the doorframe. "I think the Joker will just shoot him because he's wearing those hideous shoes."

The henchmen stared at her for a while before looking down at their own clothes. Ace chuckled and walked back to the kitchen. After about three hours later, a car skidded loudly to a stop outside. The door burst open a moment later and the Joker paraded inside.

"Heeello, kiddies!" he greeted enthusiastically.

The henchmen looked round him for Isaac. They spotted him walking over with about a dozen bags piled neatly in his arms, filled with… something. The Joker pursed his lips.

"I don't hear my welcome back!" he said, staring at them with maniacal eyes.

The henchmen started.

"Welcome back, boss! Gee, we sure missed you!" they chorused.

The Joker beamed back at them.

"That's the spirit! Now where's the wifey?" he asked.

"In the kitchen with a carving knife, waiting for your return with thoughts of homicidal rage as she suspects you having an affair with the whore in the nearby bar," Ace replied in a monotone from behind him.

"Aw, sweetheart, you know you're the only one!" he grinned, throwing his arms wide open at her.

She scowled, not amused, and held up the carving knife threateningly. The Joker rolled his eyes at her lack of humour. He motioned Isaac to dump the things on the kitchen table, which he gladly obeyed. The contents spilled out onto the wooden surface. The henchmen went forwards, curious. Ace stared with a bewildered expression on her face. There was a moment of silence as Ace stared, the henchmen frowned and the Joker grinned.

"Playing cards?" Ace deadpanned.

"Hehehe!"

"_Playing cards?_" she turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

He continued snickering.

"Pray tell, what are we doing with the playing cards?" she asked in a serious voice. "Poker? I'm more of a Blackjack person."

"He wants us to find all the Joker cards in them," Isaac informed.

"Find all the Joker cards," she mumbled under her breath. "Is this what he does when he's bored most of the time?"

She reached out to take a pack but her hand was suddenly grabbed to the side. She looked up at the Joker accusingly. He was grinning down at her.

"_We_," he said, dragging the syllable. "Are going to the library!"

"Library?" she looked at him incredulously. "You got an overdue book or something?"

He grinned and pulled a book out of his coat and waved it in front of her. She stared at the book in disbelief. _Of all the…_

"Come on, come on! Hurry up!" he whined.

She stood up awkwardly, staring at the Joker with rapt attention, trying to figure out what on earth he was thinking. His grin grew wider at her easy cooperation. Abused wrist still in hand, he dragged her out of the house and to the car. They got in and the Joker threw his book to her. The book fell onto her lap, opening into two halves. She stared down at it with wide eyes. The pages of the book had been carved out, and in the hole hid a small sloppily made bomb set to blow in less than forty-five minutes.

"You're going to destroy a library?" she turned to him, scandalized.

He snickered as he pulled out of the driveway.

"But you can't destroy a library!" she cried. "All those books! Oh, the shame! Have you no respect for the literary arts!"

"Darling, if you don't can it, I'll knock you unconscious," he told her, sounding like he meant it.

"Somebody's in a bad mood," she muttered, looking out the window.

"You know this library, uh, around Robinson Park?" he asked.

"Yeah, why?" she blinked at him.

"Heard it was some charity thing set up by that billionaire Bruce Wayne?"

"I think so, heard something about him having a Foundation," she frowned in confusion. "Why are you asking this?"

"Know anything about Brucey?" he raised his eyebrows.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"He used to be someone I knew," she replied.

"Someone you knew?" Joker's voice sounded surprised. "Why, Acey! You've been holding out on me, sweetheart! Any other rich-boys you know of?"

"That was a long time ago," she snapped at him.

"Something tells me that you didn't exactly sign up to rob banks with me," he teased, giving her a lewd smile.

"Urgh," she rolled her eyes. "Yes, Joker, I am madly in love with you. Oh, baby, oh, baby, hold me in your arms."

He chortled at her, loving the way she reacted to his jokes. She crossed her arms and huffed at him in disgust. She looked out the window and watched the streets and lights pass by in a blur. Joker really didn't care about speed limits, did he? They soon came to a stop at the City Hall. Ace stared at it then to the Joker.

"Oh, it's here," she deadpanned. "Why didn't you blow it up earlier when we _were_ here?"

"I just thought of the idea in the Commissioner's office," he pointed to the window.

"Ah."

"Stay near the car, sweetheart," he told her, picking the book off her lap and shutting it close.

"Won't the people freak out when they see you?" she asked him, frowning. "Shouldn't I go in?"

He merely winked at her and got out of the car, heading straight for the library across the road. Ace continued frowning. She watched him enter the library through the front entrance. She waited for the voices screaming bloody murder and the terrified patrons of the library running for dear life. But none came. This surprised her. She got out of the car and stepped onto the sidewalk, hands on hips. What was the Joker planning? She looked at her watch. The bomb was going to go off in about-

"**AAAAHH!**" _There_ were the blood-curdling screams.

Ace winced and ducked behind the car as a part of the East Wing of the library got blown into smithereens. _All those poor books!_ People were running around, petrified out of their wits. The explosion was incredibly loud for that tiny little contraption and there should be some considerable disruption in the nearby vicinity. Ace craned her neck and stood on her tiptoes but there was still no sign of the Joker.

"Oh, for Christ's sake! Not the library! That stupid clown!" a familiar voice caught her attention.

Ace turned around to the tall, lean man standing a couple of feet behind her. Her eyes widened considerably in surprise. She felt something tug in her navel area and her heart skipped a beat. He looked exactly the same as she remembered him. _Handsome face, gorgeous cruel eyes, lanky frame_, she nodded mentally to herself. _Yep, still the same_.

"_Jonathan Crane_?" she called the name, taking delight in the way his name rolled off her tongue so easily.

Those beautifully cold pale eyes turned to lock gazes with her. Bewilderment turned to recognition and his lips curled into a smile.

"Well, well, well…" he said smoothly. "_Ace_."

She almost shuddered in pleasure. He was like poison to her, and she was like a moth to the light. She absolutely adored the man, despite her brief acquaintances with him. She walked towards him, closer.

"I haven't seen you since the last time you visited Arkham," he said, eyeing her. "I tried getting Jeremiah to give you to me, but he _absolutely_ refused."

"That's kind of you, Jonathan," she smiled, hoping to wave the topic away. "So, Scarecrow, huh?"

He grinned wolfishly, seeming to like the sound of the name.

"Yes," he said, almost like a purr. "It seems to have turned out that way."

"I heard Batman managed to catch you not so long ago," she said. "Broken free, already?"

He chuckled, brushing a lock of hair from her face. She closed her eyes for a brief fleeting moment, enjoying their little game.

"And what have _you_ been doing?" he asked. "I heard you quit the mob?"

"I did," she nodded.

"Why?" he asked.

"I didn't want anything to do with them anymore," she waved that off as well.

"Really?" his tone was doubtful.

She couldn't help but feel like he knew something. Knew something _more_. She took a step back from him, a hint of wariness in her eyes, as she remembered exactly how dangerous this man could be. Crane cocked his head to the side and placed his hands into his pockets. A couple ran past them, saying something about bad luck and needing to pass this place to get back home. Something fell as they hurried by and dropped onto Ace's foot. Her eyes flickered to look at it. She bent down to pick it up, examining it in her hand. It looked like an invitation, with elegant golden writing decorating the thick expensive paper. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise as she read the names on it. Suddenly, she heard footsteps approaching from behind her and she turned around sharply to inspect. It was Joker, and he was looking at Crane unsavourily.

"Hello, _doctor_," Joker spoke the title with an edge of mockery.

"_Clown_," came Crane's equally uncivil greeting.

"Ace?" Joker walked towards her.

"Joker?" she smirked in mild amusement.

"Library killer," Crane muttered under his breath, earning him a suppressed laugh from the young woman.

"Finished?" she asked.

"Yep, all finished, sweetheart, let's get moving before the cops come!" he grinned, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "If you'll _excuse_ me, stick-man, we have _reservations_ to attend to."

Ace didn't even want to know.

"It was nice seeing you again, Jonathan," she smiled widely at him.

"You too, Ace," he nodded to her. "I hope we'll meet again."

"I hope so too!" she nodded back.

Joker scowled at him and tucked her closer underneath his arm. Crane narrowed his eyes at the Joker's antics.

"Good night, _Jonathan_," he snapped and spun her around sharply.

"I can walk myself, you know," Ace whined, as he pulled her towards the car.

"Shut yer trap," he muttered as he opened the car door.

"I can open the car door myself too!" she went on indignantly and he shoved her roughly into the car.

The Joker turned around and Crane was gone. He walked around the back of the car and got into the driver's seat, grumbling a string of profanities as he went.

"What was that about?" Ace's annoying whine assaulted him.

"Jonathan Crane?" he raised his eyebrows at her. "Anyone else, _darling_? Are you going to tell me you know Harvey Dent too?"

She frowned at his rather demanding tone.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I don't know Harvey, though I would like to," she pressed a finger to her lips. "He's pretty good looking as well."

"As well?" he frowned in disgust. "In comparison to who?"

"To you, my dear," she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms again.

"I _certainly_ hope you're joking, because everybody knows Dent doesn't look a thing as dashing as I am," he said smugly, starting the engine.

"Joker," Ace closed her eyes, pained. "_Please_."

"But I suppose it would be better to be compared to Dent than _Crane_," he hissed the name out.

Ace's eyes snapped open.

"You have a thing against Jonathan Crane?" she turned on him, defensive for the object of her lusty obsessions.

Joker made another disgusted face at her.

"_Ew_," he stared at her, horrified. "Don't tell me you find that walking _matchstick_ even _remotely_ attractive? I'm insulted, Ace, I really am! I thought you had better taste!"

Though it intrigued her, why the Joker should be so abhorrent of the psychologist, and as well as the extent of his narcissism amused her, his little teases exhausted her. She threw her hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. He chuckled at her again.

"So we've come to an agreement that I'm the best looking guy there is?" he threw her his version of a debonair grin.

Ace had to press her lips together to keep herself from laughing out loud, lest he would take insult and stab her with something pointy.

"By the way, what's that you've been holding in your hand?" he asked, eyeing the invitation.

"Oh, this?" she held it up. "I picked it up. You won't believe what it is! It's an invitation to that fundraiser Bruce Wayne is throwing for Harvey Dent!"

He looked disappointed for a second before he started grinning again.

"Oh, rrreeeaallyy now?" he looked to the side.

"Were you _planning_ to get your hands on one of these?" Ace asked after a pause. "How on earth-? That- Impossible!"

"I wasn't expecting it either," he made a face. "I was thinking of blowing up his restaurant later…"

"Ohh," she began fanning herself with the invitation. "Lucky, huh!"

"Yeah, yeah, lucky," he grumbled.

They drove in silence for a while.

"Will you tell me why you hate Jonathan?"

"No."


	8. Accident

**A/N: (I know I'm really sloppy with updates ):)(I confess, this is actually a strange chapter) AAAAH HELP ME. JOKER IS PLANNING MY SLOW, TORTUROUS, PAINFUL DEATH RIGHT THIS MOMENT! EEP. (hides)  
**

**Tainted Purple**

_Chapter 7_

_You fake just like a woman,  
You make love just like a woman,  
Then you ache just like a woman,  
But you break just like a little girl._

The Joker prided himself on his cruel and unusual ways of killing. He loved anarchy, it was his goal. Well, one of his goals. His primary goal in life at the moment was to get the Batman. But he would need plans, lots and lots of plans before he could lay his hands on the Bat. Usually, these plans took a lot of time to think up of and to make sure it was foolproof. Then, he would have to wait for the perfect moment to execute them. He always hated the waiting part. Time moved too slowly, much to his chagrin. That was why, it was such a good thing he had Ace. Oh, beautifully dangerous, feisty Ace, probably the only other person in this entire city to dare exchange taunts with him. Except maybe the Batman. Yeah, he liked her. She was a good pet, good partner to work with too. It didn't help with the fact that she was almost so much like him as well. _Almost_.

He opened the door to the house, noting how quiet the inside was. There weren't any raucous laughter coming from the living room from the four goons, or the persistent high-pitched screaming of their fake Batman. Ace's brooding presence was nowhere to be found as well. He walked down the hall and looked into the living room, only to find his henchmen passed out cold on the floor and sofa. Empty bottles of beer and wine glasses littered the coffee table and floor. The priceless carpet was so badly stained; it would give any art collector a massive heart attack. This was very strange indeed; he wondered how Ace managed to persuade them into a drinking binge with her. They were all terrified of her, but he supposed not as much as they were terrified of him. He _assumed_ this was the handiwork of Ace, who else in this temporary household would go on a drinking binge as big as this in the middle of a whack-job plot to destroy the whole of Gotham? Definitely Ace. The fake Batman must be asleep or knocked out cold too. Joker continued down the hallway, looking into the small bathroom, the office and checking around the kitchen for his very recently elusive associate. He checked the guest room where the fake Batman was but the only living thing in there was him, and he was still breathing.

Lastly, he checked the bedroom, where he was very sure by now she had passed out in. But when he entered the room, he was surprised to discover that it was empty. He checked the connecting bathroom as well and she wasn't passed out in the bathtub. Where could she be? He decided that he didn't want to care about her anymore. Besides, the silence was inviting. He stepped into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. Slowly, awkwardly, he began discarding his clothes, peeling off the coat and untying his tie while getting out of his shoes. The vest went off, and the shirt, then the pants. It was the routine, the methodical routine of it that reminded him that he was still part of the human race. He was sure, that if he was a ghost, like what he felt he was most of the time, he did not have to do this routine. He didn't have to, really, but his body demanded it. And he could not rebel against his impulses.

Ace had asked him once whether he actually bothered about his hygiene. He turned on the shower and allowed it to run for a while. Does _this_ answer her question? He stepped in, slowly, feeling the tiny drops of water run down his skin in rivulets. He drew the shower curtains, scrubbed the paint off his face, relishing the smooth clean feel of it for just a moment. After a few minutes of rudimentary washing, he stepped out of the shower; feeling like a snake that had just shed its skin. The hot steam had fogged up the mirror. He stood in front of it, wrapping a towel around his narrow hips. He began drawing little smiley faces all over the misted glass before leaning his hands on the sides of the sink and admiring his handiwork. The sound of water droplets hitting the tiled floor echoed in his ears. He raised a hand and wiped everything away. Instantly, his bleak scarred face came to view. He narrowed his eyes before smirking. _The ghosts inside the ghost_.

Outside, the slim brunette staggered up the hallway into the bedroom, her bare feet hardly making any noise on the wooden boards. She could hear something clatter but she paid no heed to it as she made a beeline to the bathroom. The door was locked. She searched the bedroom for the spare keys, retrieving them from the drawers. Holding her glass of wine in one hand, she quickly unlocked the door to the bathroom, throwing it wide open. She froze at what she stumbled upon inside. He turned around to look at her, a hideously seething expression on his face. She let out a breath, taking him in. Even through the haze in her mind, she could see that his skin really was surprisingly smooth. There were scars on his back and his front. A rather thin, long one raced from the back of his shoulder and arched to his side. The muscles on his arm flexed beautifully as he balled his hands into fists. How she ached to press her hands on them, to feel its solidness.

"Get out," he growled.

He was vulnerable, as _naked_ as one could be. He knew it was an accident, a miscalculation on his part. He had no idea she had a spare key. But this… _indecent_ exposure… this mortifying discovery… He stared at her lividly, with intent to kill, maim, slaughter. Vivid plans began formulating themselves in his mind for the woman's slow, painful death. He scowled angrily at her openly shocked face._ She was not supposed to still be standing there!  
_

The only thing he had on was a towel. And she, she was only wearing a dress. It would have been so easy, so sickeningly easy, to do the unthinkable. Especially in her inebriated state, she wouldn't have minded either. Just as long as she had no recollection of it in the morning. But she did not like the look on his face at all. _His face_… without the make-up once again, the vivid scar, and _those lips_… She could see the green streaks in his dirty blonde hair clearly now. Only, it wasn't that dirty at the moment. But no, why did he have to look at her like that? He looked like he was about to rip her apart with his bare hands. She turned around and closed the door behind her, leaning against it with her heart pounding madly against her chest. She heard something slam against the door behind her and she bolted from the room, dropping her wine glass and letting it break into a million pieces on the floor.

He emerged from the bathroom moments later, in complete garb and makeup. He was still angry, but he would get over it, just like the first time it happened. This girl was really getting to him. He had to get rid of her soon. He was letting her get under his skin. He _didn't_ really like that. He walked towards the kitchen area and grabbed a bottle of beer from the counter. He checked the living room; the goons were still passed out over the carpet. Ace was gone again. He returned to the bedroom and headed to the bed, but noticed a table by the window with a chair. He maneuvered his direction towards it. He sat down and opened the beer bottle, taking a long draught. He placed the bottle on the table and propped his elbow onto it. The house was uncannily silent. He didn't like it much, gave him too many chances to think. He needed a distraction. But he didn't think he could look at Ace without wanting to do some severe bodily harm to her. He shifted his thoughts to business matters. His plan was in motion, he only had a few more things to do. Of course, everything had to be perfectly orchestrated, perfectly executed. He wasn't called The Clown Prince of Crime for nothing.

Tiny droplets of water began pelting themselves against the window next to him and thunder rumbled overhead. Rain. He closed his eyes, allowing himself one fleeting moment to remember again. Of blonde hair and blue eyes. Of days long gone, lost in another life, a whole other universe. It was not his universe, not anymore… he opened his eyes, letting the dream fade away, returning to the back of his mind where it would be reburied once again. The lithe figure by the doorway stared back at him with hollow eyes. Her hair was dripping and there were light flecks of rain on her dress. She had run outside to avoid him. But now that the rain had begun to fall, she had to turn back inside to face him. She walked towards him, wary, cautious, yet seemingly uncaring of her actions. She crawled onto his lap and straddled him, running her dark purple nails on his chest. He could smell the wine on her breath. Sweet, intoxicating.

"What are you doing?" he asked in a low, dangerous voice, not moving any other single muscle.

She heaved a sigh and trailed her fingers up to his face. She frowned as she focused her unseeing eyes on him.

"I don't like the makeup," she muttered.

"Do I care?" he asked.

She heaved another sigh. _How long had it been since he felt a woman this close?_ Her skin was so smooth and her touch was so gentle. Was this how a woman felt all the time? He couldn't remember anymore. He tilted his head and parted his lips in response.

"I know what you want from me," she said.

"No, you don't, you're drunk," he said.

Did she not realize that he could so easily just break his beer bottle and ram it into her throat?

"I know what you want from me," she repeated.

"And what's that?" he raised his eyebrows.

This time she inhaled and exhaled deeply.

"What all men want," she breathed.

"That is?" he pressed.

She mumbled something incoherent and leaned down. She pressed her palms flat on the side of his face, smudging some of his makeup in the process. He could feel her alcohol-tainted breath on his skin. She leaned in lower, parting her wine stained lips slightly. He could pull her down on him or rise up to capture those lips, but he remained perfectly still. She gazed her empty green eyes into his own dark ones. He reached his hand up to brush a lock of hair from her face, noticing a tiny scar on her temple. He narrowed his eyes at it. Then she let out a small moan and collapsed on top of his chest. He rolled his eyes and let his hand fall back down onto the table. He was about to push her off him when she shifted her head slightly. Her lips were at his ear.

"I had a fiancé once, you know…" she began murmuring. "And you remind me of him… dark, moody, spontaneous… I loved how he was so spontaneous and quiet at the same time. Like… like you never knew what he was going to do…"

He snorted, but she continued on.

"We had a baby… A baby, you know… he wanted a girl," she sighed again, a broken-hearted sigh. "We were going to have a _baby_…"

_God_, he gritted his teeth, body tensing beneath her. He clenched the arms of the chair in a death grip. He was glad she couldn't see his face at that moment. A mask of pain he had never showed anyone but himself. _Jeannie_. The name was horrible. Spiteful. Just like a knife to his gut. If only he could tear the name out from his mind. Tear it into tiny pieces. If only her face wasn't seared into the back of his eyelids, so he didn't have to see her every time he closed his eyes.

"I wanted… I wanted a boy. I wanted to name him... _Jack_," she choked.

He raised his hand and shoved her off him. She rolled off the side and landed on the floor with a loud thud. She was unconscious now. He didn't have to listen to her anymore. He relaxed his body, taking another swig from the beer bottle. Nothing had happened.

**--**

Her sense of smell awoke first. The scent of fried eggs and hot coffee tantalized her, made her stomach growl in response. Her hand moved to her head, sliding across the hard wooden floor beneath her. Slowly, and agonizingly, she opened her eyes. Sounds of talking and the clinking of cutlery finally registered through her disoriented mind. Then the **_pain_.**

"Does anybody know how I got this bitch of a hangover and the reason why I was sleeping on the floor in the bedroom?" Ace demanded, walking into the kitchen with a hand over her face, after having changed into a shirt and jeans.

"You went on a bender last night," David told her, shoving eggs into his mouth.

"Where's the clown?" she asked, looking around.

"He wasn't here when we woke up," Isaac shrugged. "None of us were conscious enough to know if he came in last night or not."

"Ugh," Ace complained, taking a seat at the table and helping herself to some eggs. "Somebody knows how to cook?"

"Shawn," they pointed.

"Well, at least we won't have to worry about starving to death," she said mildly.

The front door opened at that moment and the Joker chose that moment to walk in, looking like he just spent the entire night sleeping on a park bench. Ace chewed her eggs slowly and watched him walk towards the kitchen.

"Look what I got!" he exclaimed, showing them something in his hand.

Ace stared at him and swallowed.

"It's a camera."

"Isn't great!" he said excitedly.

"What are you gonna do with the camera," she and the others continued staring at the loony clown.

"WE," he grabbed her arm and hauled her from the table. "Are going to make a movie."

"Huh?" she looked back at the others to see if they knew anything about that.

They just stared blankly like goldfish. Big help they were. She rolled her eyes at them.

"Okay, _movie_," she turned back to the Joker as he walked down the hall towards the bedrooms. "Great. About what?"

"You'll see," he smiled and opened the door to the guest room.

Ryan Lowes looked up from his seat on the bed. His wrist was rubbed raw from the handcuffs. Joker went over and unattached him from the bed, grabbing his shoulder and pushing him out of the room. Ace followed, slightly confused. They passed the kitchen and he motioned for Isaac to follow them. The man shot up from his seat and walked in pace with Ace, who still had a serious hangover and was not at all appreciating Joker's vagueness. They got into the car, with Isaac driving and the Joker riding shotgun. Ace and Ryan were at the back, the latter terrified out of his wits. He had reason to. They were bringing him to his execution. Joker gave directions to Isaac to drive them towards this abandoned building that looked like it used to be a hospital or something. Ace rubbed the bridge of her nose and dragged the pale shaking Batman out of the car.

"Not so brave, are you, huh?" she mocked him.

"You're _scum_," he scowled hatefully.

"Yeah… I know," she said lightly just as the Joker took over.

They brought him inside into some kind of office that was filled with meat hanging from the ceiling. The Joker held up some rope to Isaac and nodded his head at the chair. Ryan made very little efforts in struggling in his weakened state. The Joker held up the camera and began fiddling around with it.

"Checked if there's tape?" Ace asked.

"Of course there's tape, I just put it in," he said distractedly.

"What's he doing?" Isaac leaned over to whisper to her.

Apparently, the henchmen weren't that afraid of her anymore. They realized that as long as they didn't do anything to piss her off, she wouldn't decide to use them as target practice for those knives she stole off the Joker.

"I have absolutely no idea," she whispered back, shaking her head slowly.

"Alright, it's on!" the Joker exclaimed, laughing his whooping mad laugh. "Here's where the fun begins, lady and gentlemen!"

"I think he's doing some kind of terrorist tape thing," Ace leaned over to whisper to Isaac.

"Ooh," Isaac intoned enthusiastically.

Ace asked Isaac if he had some aspirin, which he dutifully procured for her. Joker turned around and focused the camera on Ryan. Ace dried swallowed two aspirins. Ryan looked at the camera with apprehension.

"How good are your acting skills, Mr. Wannabe?" he grinned down at the poor man and pressed the record button. "Tell them your name."

"R-Ryan Lowes," the man choked.

"Are you the real Batman?" Joker laughed lightly.

"N-no."

"No?"

"No…"

"No!" he couldn't stop laughing. "Then why do you dress up like him!"

He took a step forward and ripped off the Batman mask from his face. He dangled the offending piece of material in front of the camera sillily.

"So we don't have to be afraid of scum like you!" Ryan tried to say bravely.

"Yeah, you do, Ryan," the Joker grabbed his hair and shook his head. "You really do! _Yeaahh_."

Ryan whimpered. Ace motioned for Isaac to pass her an ice pack, which she pressed to her head.

"He's really into it, huh?" Isaac whispered.

"He's a pretty good actor himself," Ace whispered back between silent giggles.

"Oh, shush, shush, shush," the Joker stroked Ryan's cheek and patted his face. "Hehe! So, you think Batman's made Gotham a better place? Hm?"

"I think he's crying," Ace pointed.

"I think he's wetting himself," Isaac replied.

The Joker took a couple steps back as Ryan sat helplessly whimpering in his chair.

"Look at me!" he said, then raising his voice menacingly. "_Look at me!_"

Isaac jumped a bit at the sound of his voice. It was a pretty darn demon-possessed sounding voice. Ryan raised his head up slowly, turning his eyes towards the camera. The Joker zoomed in a bit on his face before turning it around and pointing it at himself from the top.

"You see, this is how _crazy_ Batman's made Gotham!" he told the camera. "If you want order in Gotham, Batman must take off his mask and turn himself in. Oh, and everyday he doesn't, people _will_ die. Starting tonight. I'm a man of my _word_."

He threw the camera over his shoulders and headed towards Ryan with his knife drawn. The camera rolled across the floor with the mad cackling laughter of the Joker and terrified screams of Ryan echoing in the room as the Joker stabbed him. Ace walked towards the camera and picked it up, raising it just so only the bottom half of her face can be seen. She smiled and waved her fingers at the camera before switching it off. The Joker wiped his knife clean, smiling on a job well done.

"Okay, everybody," he said gleefully. "That's a wrap!"

Ace removed the tape and placed a hand on her hip.

"I'm guessing, Gotham Cable News?" she asked, waving the tape.

"You betcha, doll-face," he pointed.

Ace tossed the tape over to Isaac who caught it and went off to deliver the errand. She then walked over to where the Joker was untying Ryan's body.

"Must you be so messy," she pointed to the blood.

"I didn't have a gun," he shrugged.

"We should paint him, you know," she said.

"That's a great idea!" he laughed.

"Mm-hmm," she hummed. "With the red smiley face and all. Oh, you should put the mask back on too. It'll look funnier."

"I like your sense of humor," he grinned.

"Then we tie a noose round his neck and drop him off in front of the mayor's window," she said.

"Hello," the Joker looked at her in disbelief. "_I'm_ the criminal mastermind here?"

"Right, okay, what do you have?" she asked.

"We paint him with the red smiley face, tie a noose round his neck and drop him off in front of the mayor's window," he grinned.

"Yeah," she rolled her eyes. "That's a _great_ idea."

"I know, thought it up all by myself too!" he went on laughing hysterically.

"Hilarious."

"Wait here," he told her before heading off to somewhere.

Ace sighed and leaned against a table, looking down at the mess in the chair. He was young, much too young for her to like to think about. But then the happy couple she so easily burned with the Joker were young too… But twenty, why… that was exactly the age _Seth_ died. She closed her eyes, a humourless smile on her face. Imagine what they would all think if they saw her now. Mortified, heart-broken, disbelief, shock… but there was no going back. Not anymore.


End file.
